


learning to trust

by Chillykins



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: The Great Fodlan Bakeoff, takes place during the time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chillykins/pseuds/Chillykins
Summary: When Byleth falls, Hubert is sure it won't be long before his former classmates leave Edelgard's cause. Instead, he finds reasons to appreciate them.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	learning to trust

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this was written for the great fodlan bakeoff, which challenged everyone to write their fic in 48 hours to include the following themes: ambition, exploration, devotion, gossip, and secret
> 
> you can search the bakeoff tag for more great works and find me @longestyeehaw on twitter and @johnbly on tumblr

When they arrive at the Imperial army camp, Hubert’s classmates give their reason for fleeing Garreg Mach. He can’t say the explanations impress him. Regardless, they offer their strength to Edelgard and her cause, and that is all that matters. 

Their battle to take the monastery goes well. Fighting Church members with whom they used to get along with isn’t easy for some of the newly named Black Eagle Strike Force, but he isn’t bothered. Perhaps there is a world where the Church isn’t the disease it has become, where the ones they are fighting could be allies rather than foes. But this is not that world, and Hubert and the others have no choice but to strike down everyone standing in their way.

Yes, the battle goes well -- until the moment Rhea sheds her archbishop form for her true one, that of the Immaculate One. The dragon stares down their professor. And strikes. The power behind the blow shakes the ground, and the castle crumbles around those still alive. Hubert’s eyes find Edelgard first, ensuring she is still safe, and then he looks back to their professor. 

“Professor!” he shouts, seeing that they’re simply standing there, facing off against the dragon. “Take cover!”

Edelgard echoes his warning, but neither make a difference. The ground opens up in the midst of the destruction of the castle, and their professor falls. There’s no time to comprehend what’s just happened. The Black Eagle Strike Force rushes to safety with the rest of the Imperial army to fully claim the building that’s now theirs.

But at what cost? Hubert won’t hesitate to make sacrifices for the greater good, but their professor isn’t just a common soldier.

The Black Eagles’ reasons for joining the fight float back to the forefront of his thoughts. Caspar, Dorothea, and Bernadetta had all cited their professor as a strong factor for their decision. With their professor gone, what is there to stay for? Surely it is only a matter of time before they -- and perhaps the others -- abandon the Empire. With this in mind, Hubert resolves to keep a close eye on his classmates.

Just as he had killed the Church soldiers, he won’t hesitate to turn his magic on his former classmates should they decide to become a problem. Whatever connections they may have from their time together at the Academy pale in comparison to his devotion to Edelgard and her cause.

* * *

The candle’s light flickers above the pages. Hubert spares it a glance to ensure it’s not too low, then returns his attention to the information. He’s pored over the map and general intelligence for hours. Nothing yet has stood out. It’s looking as if any engagement fought on that land will come down to simple strength and tactics. No hills or ditches or anything of the like are there to offer an advantage.

A hesitant knock on his door breaks through his thoughts. If not for his keen hearing, he may not have heard it at all.

“Come in,” he calls. He must admit a few minutes’ break from the papers sounds appealing.

He expects for the guest -- especially at this hour -- to be an Empire soldier, or perhaps even Edelgard. The door slowly opens. A figure steps inside, and the candle in their hand instead illuminates the face of...

“Bernadetta,” he says, unable to keep the hint of surprise out of his voice. “I would have thought I’m the last person you would seek out so late.”

“A-actually,” she stammers, “you’re the first one I’m coming to.”

His eyebrows raise. “Oh? And what brings you here, then?” When she opens her mouth to reply, still standing in the doorway, he interrupts. “You may fully enter. You’re in no more danger from me here than you are anywhere else.” As her eyes widen, he adds, “Which is to say, no danger at all.”

She remains a statue. He’s resigned himself to her still-present fear of him when she takes a step closer. Once she realizes he hasn’t killed her on the spot, she closes the distance between her and his desk. She sets the candle down and reaches into her pocket. With anyone else, he may have braced himself for a potential attack. 

But he doesn’t fear Bernadetta, nor does he think her the type to convincingly feign distress only to make an attempt on someone’s life. And as she’d once passed out on the spot, he knows full well her anxiety is real. Of course, if on the very, very slim chance he’s wrong, he’s confident in his ability to stop a strike before it happens.

“Ever since the professor vanished, it feels like something is missing,” she says as she pulls out what looks like a rectangular piece of fabric. “With them here, it was still like we were students. But now it’s just us, and…”

She trails off, perhaps remembering who she’s speaking to. Hubert stares at her expectantly. He understands her thinking, but he won’t interrupt her this time until she finishes her point, lest he scare her away again. This conversation is already a far cry from those they’ve had before, with her rushing off. It will be a shame if she returns to that, as her bearing to stand in his presence is beneficial to the war.

“And I thought we -- the Black Eagles -- needed something to remind us that we’re still...together,” Bernadetta eventually continues. “I made a patch that we can all wear, like how we used to wear our school uniforms.”

“That sounds like a reasonable idea,” Hubert concedes, “but I fail to see why you chose to come to me first.”

She doesn’t look like she understands it either. “I thought that i-if you approved of it, then surely everyone else would.”

“In that case, may I see it?”

Holding out his gloved hand palm-up, he waits to see if she can bring herself to continue. There’s a beat, her gaze flicking to his before darting away again. And then she places the fabric in his hand. Well, it’s more like she drops it, but it’s something. He lowers his hand to the desk and leans forward to study her work properly. Her love for embroidery is no secret, so it’s no surprise that the stitches are neat.

The background is half red and half gold, sliced diagonally, much like their class banner. A black, double-headed eagle in flight is sewn on top. Its talons are outstretched, reaching for prey just off the patch. Somehow, Bernadetta had managed to artfully combine images of the Adrestian Empire along with the Black Eagles. A symbol of unity indeed. 

He holds it back out to her, and she practically snatches it from his hand. “It is exquisite work,” he says.

“Oh.” She blinks. “Thank you.”

“I am sure the others will agree that this is a patch they would be pleased to wear, even if I did not give my approval.”

“...Do you?”

Hubert inclines his head. “I do. It is well-made, and there can be no argument about its meaning. If you are looking for my permission, you have it. Though with something like this, there’s hardly a need for you to ask for consent.”

Apparently too caught up in surviving a conversation with him and receiving the go-ahead, Bernadetta completely ignores his final point. She thanks him once again, hastily, and runs off. At least she closes the door after doubling back.

Some things never change.

* * *

It is a fact of war that there are numerous battles, with sides both winning and losing over the course of it all. While it would be cleaner and quicker, it won’t be much of a war if one side dominates the whole way through. That doesn’t stop the losses from stinging any less. Hubert is above drowning in too much bitterness, as he sees the full picture. He knows that any setback can be undone with the right steps forward. 

The issue is not everyone in the Imperial army is built to see anything past the present. All they know is that the Church and Kingdom troops dealt them a resounding defeat, losing the little ground they’ve gained as of late. Edelgard has already given her usual speech after a loss, reminding everyone that the war is far from over, and urging the soldiers to take the long view, as she and Hubert can. As he scans the troops, he can see it hasn’t worked as well as it usually does. Perhaps because their defeats are usually closer, and there are more positives to take from it.

“May I speak, Edelgard?”

Hubert’s gaze snaps to Ferdinand. He sits a little off to the side with the other non-healer members of the Black Eagle Strike Force. What could he have on his mind? Hubert thinks of turning down the request, but it’s not his decision to make. Despite leaving off her title -- as usual, though Hubert knows he’s the only one to insist on the formality -- Ferdinand correctly asks for Edelgard’s permission.

Doing so rather than just blurting out whatever ridiculous words bouncing around his head may be a sign that he actually has something wise to say, but Hubert won’t hold his breath.

“You may, Ferdinand,” Edelgard says.

As the eyes of the soldiers move from their leader to her old classmate, Ferdinand stands. He shows no discomfort at the attention. Hubert hadn’t expected him to. How can a self-assured noble who foolishly believes himself superior to his emperor in some ways be anything but confident under the spotlight?

“What Edelgard said is absolutely true,” Ferdinand begins. “While we lost today, there is still tomorrow, and every day after that until we win this war.”

At least he’s smart enough to start with acknowledging the obvious. The question now becomes what he’ll say next. Hubert knows Ferdinand wouldn’t have asked to speak to merely second Edelgard’s points.

“I know how difficult that is to understand, especially when we find so few positives in our performance today. Picturing a victory in our next battle is hard when we’re still caught up in remembering this one. It’s near impossible to go further and imagine a victorious end to the war as a whole.” Ferdinand pauses, allowing a mumble of agreement to sweep through the crowd. “There is nothing wrong with feeling discouraged in this moment, but we cannot allow it to decide the next battle before it even begins.”

In many ways, he is repeating Edelgard’s encouragements. But something about Ferdinand’s words is landing differently. Even Hubert can feel it. While Edelgard speaks with a hard fire, burning through everything in the way, Ferdinand’s passion is more...gentle. Like a safely contained blaze in a fireplace, a comforting warmth.

“When we’re struck down like this, we have to remember why we’re fighting. We want to make Fódlan a place to live for everyone, not just those with status or crests. We want to rid our continent of the influence of the Church of Seiros so we can live for ourselves and those we love. These are noble goals, are they not?”

There are more nods and sounds of agreement amongst the soldiers, this time less subdued. Ferdinand somehow manages to stand straighter.

“Those we are fighting have their own beliefs, and I’m certain they hold as tightly to them as we do to ours. We must not lose sight of our goals, or they will have an advantage over us in every fight. Remembering our goals gives us the strength to overcome any loss, even this one. So yes, it’s a disappointment we didn’t win today. But there’s no reason we can’t pick ourselves back up for the next battle, unless we allow there to be one.” He lifts his lance. “I for one have no intention of doing the enemy’s job for them. We will come back stronger from this.”

Some of the soldiers cheer and whistle. Others applaud. Those who are even more touched by the speech actually stand and wave their own weapons or show flashes of their magic. Hubert simply gives a thoughtful grunt. Before Ferdinand has a chance to sit back down, he walks over to him.

“That was quite the speech, Ferdinand,” Hubert says.

“Thank you, Hubert.” It’s a testament to the seriousness of their situation that Ferdinand doesn’t make a bigger deal about the rare, uncomfortable compliment. “It’s the least I can do for the cause.”

“That’s a surprisingly humble sentiment.”

Ferdinand shakes his head, putting up his hands. “We’re no longer students. There’s no need for me to be as competitive as I was, now that we’re all fighting for the same thing.”

Resting his chin on a fist, Hubert considers him. It wasn’t that long ago since they were students, nor are they far removed from Ferdinand claiming he only joined the cause in the first place to guide Edelgard. Saying he was the only one qualified to do so. Has the loss of the professor impacted him so profoundly?

“It’s true,” Hubert agrees. “Unchecked pettiness and competition would be a severe detriment to the morale of the army. Not only have you moved past that, but you’ve found a way to display and pass on your positivity. I am sure Lady Edelgard appreciates your efforts today. And, as much as it pains me to admit, as do I.”

Now Ferdinand eyes him suspiciously. “Are you working up towards an insult or something of the sort?”

“Not this time, no. I will find something to criticize later, but for now I will leave you be.”

“I don’t doubt you’ll be back to your usual self by tomorrow.”

With a short laugh, Hubert turns and returns to Edelgard’s side. As he moves around the temporary camp, he notices the tension has mostly bled out of the soldiers. There are even a few smiles as conversations pick up. As surely as Ferdinand’s insistence to challenge Edelgard grates on Hubert’s nerves, the younger man’s optimism is contagious amongst the troops.

* * *

“Hubert, you’re bleeding,” Edelgard observes.

He looks down at his arm. Sure enough, there’s a small tear in his jacket, smeared in red. “It’s nothing, Your Majesty.”

She fixes him with an unimpressed stare. “Do I have to order you to have it checked in the infirmary?”

It seems like a waste of resources and time. There are others far more injured than him, and his presence is more surely needed in the battle’s debrief. Edelgard’s stubbornness shows no sign of fading, so he merely bows and makes his way to the infirmary. While it’s irksome the Empire hasn’t pushed deep into any new territory, it is convenient that the battles continue to be close to Garreg Mach and its considerable resources.

Of course, with his teleportation, the distance hardly matters.

He appears in front of the partially ruined entrance of the monastery. One of the guards starts. The man still being startled after the purple beam prior to his appearance isn’t particularly impressive. Hubert walks past without saying anything. His boots click on the stone floor as he makes his way to the infirmary. There isn’t much traffic, with most of the army still on the battlefield. The only ones left behind are ones to ensure the building stays under Empire control, and the injured and healers who had been evacuated.

An odd sound reaches his ears as he nears the infirmary. It almost sounds like singing, though he can’t imagine why any of the injured would be singing. Or what any of them to sing about these days. The closer he gets, the more certain he is of what he hears. It’s a strong yet gentle voice, almost operatic. The identity of the voice clicks into place just as he steps inside.

Dorothea stands over the bed of one of the soldiers, her hands glowing with her faith magic as she seals a wound on the woman’s leg. Linhardt and another healer are at the far end of the room. Her healing may not be as strong as Linhardt’s, but it can handle smaller cases. As she works, she sings a song Hubert doesn’t recognize -- not that he considers himself a connoisseur of music. He can, however, recognize its beauty. So can the injured soldier, whose eyes are closed, her face relaxed despite the discomfort she is surely feeling.

Her job done, she rests a hand on the soldier’s shoulder for a moment. She walks back to the middle of the room, presumably to heal the next injury. Seeing him in the doorway, she stops and smiles at him.

“Hubie,” she says. “What brings you here? Are you looking for some gossip?”

He’s long since given up on asking her to stop using that nickname, though he still wishes she would be less inclined to use it around people outside of their class. “I don’t think any people visit an infirmary for gossip, Dorothea,” he replies, “least of all me.”

She hums in agreement. “I suppose you’re right, but it is quite full of it if you’re interested.”

“As we’re in the midst of a war, I’m more interested in reports.”

“Reports, gossip, it’s all the same, isn’t it?”

He could argue the point. After all, gossip tends to have less authenticity surrounding it than reports. Still, he knows better than to discount it entirely. Regaless, he has no desire to linger any longer than it takes for her to clear his injury. With their conversation at a pause, her eyes wander and find the tear in his sleeve.

“Oh, you’re hurt,” she says. “Let me take a look at that for you.”

He stands still as she approaches. There’s no pain with the injury, though that isn’t always an indication of its severity. Dorothea spreads the torn fabric enough to see the full cut, a relatively shallow one despite the amount of blood.

“You’ll be just fine in a second,” she promises, then holds a hand over the area. While she doesn’t sing, she hums. “And there you go.”

Hubert experimentally presses a finger to his skin. No pain. He’d known it wasn’t anything for Edelgard to worry about. Before he returns to her, a question nags at him.

“You’re not usually our healer,” he says. “Why did you come back here?”

“It’s where I can help after the battles. I’m not good with strategy like you and Edie, and I’d hate to make Lin do most of the work. My healing magic might not be the best, but it’s enough to do the job.”

“Why do you sing?”

“It...reminds me of who I am. I’m not like Caspar or Ferdie or Petra. I’m not built for fighting and killing. I have to forget that for Edie’s sake, but I won’t let the war change me any more than it has to. Plus, it seems to help everyone relax. There’s not much room for that these days.”

After considering the answer, Hubert nods. “I see. Thank you, Dorothea.”

“Anything for you, Hubie,” she teases, with that mischievous smile again.

* * *

There are moments during the meetings that feel like a ghost of the lectures they once had in the same building. It’s Edelgard or Hubert taking the lead, rather than Byleth, but the rest of the former Black Eagles listen. Well, most of them. As with the classes, Linhardt either falls asleep halfway through or doesn’t show up at all. Hubert knows Linhardt is intelligent and insightful, traits which go unused due to his lack of interest in contributing to the Empire. No amount of arguing brings about any change.

Though he’s come to expect nothing less, Hubert rues the fact that their strategies may be missing out on a useful pair of eyes. They’ve done well enough in the war without Linhardt’s mind that he’s not bothering to make a new push, but they can be better. There’s a chance that extra step up is the very one refusing to be taken.

After yet another meeting that Linhardt both arrived late for and fell asleep during, Hubert is on the edge of starting the debate anew. If not for Linhardt’s healing abilities, Hubert would have thrown him out long ago. On Hubert’s trip from the makeshift council room to his own room to gather some papers, someone calls out after him. He turns to see a now-awake Linhardt.

“If you’re looking for someone to fill you in on what you missed, I’m afraid to say I didn’t take any notes,” Hubert says.

“I didn’t miss anything,” Linhardt replies. “I was merely resting my eyes, but I heard every word.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that.”

Linhardt sighs. “Even if I  _ had _ been asleep, I still know more about the war than you think I do.”

“Is that so?”

“I know that our next planned attack is on the Church forces just inside the Faerghus border. You all were talking about being wary of Kingdom reinforcements.”

It does sound as if Linhardt had been awake after all. The fact confuses Hubert all the more, as why bother looking asleep if he wasn’t?

“You are correct.” Hubert crosses his arms. “Is that what you wanted to tell me? That you weren’t asleep?”

“No, of course not. You already think of me as useless, so what difference would it make if you thought I was sleeping this time?”

“I think your  _ research  _ useless. You have your merits.”

“A compliment before I’ve even said what I’m here to say. That’s new.”

“What are you here to say, Linhardt?”

“The Church forces aren’t far from a small forest. If you want our army to be able to see Kingdom reinforcements before it’s too late, I suggest making use of it.”

“Go on.”

“If you station some soldiers up in the trees, they’ll be able to see much farther than anyone on the ground,” Linhardt explains patiently. “And if those soldiers are archers or have magic, they can attack from up high. I doubt anyone on the other side would expect that.”

Hubert’s mind shifts from its usual displeasure for Linhardt’s habits to an impartial assessment of the strategy. It’s true that the Church is unlikely to scan the trees for enemies. After all, no one in the meeting had seen the unique way to use the forest.

“Why are you telling me this in private?” Hubert asks. “Is this not something that the rest of the force would want to hear and discuss?”

“Oh, I’m not interested in being trapped in some debate. I leave that to you, Hubert. You like working. If you’d like, you can even take credit for the idea.”

Hubert’s brows furrow. “Why would you want your involvement to be a secret?”

“If everyone continues to see me as the guy who sleeps through meetings, they’ll keep their expectations low. That means I don’t have to go through a tiring amount of effort. And if everyone thinks of me as some strategic genius, they’ll never stop asking questions.”

It’s tempting to turn down the suggestion. To see just what Linhardt will do if the rest of the army turns to him for advice. But that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Rather than risk their best healer fleeing or a complete collapse of communication, Hubert has no choice.

“Very well,” he says. “I won’t take credit for it, though I won’t mention your involvement either. You may continue on devoting your mind to interests that don’t aid the Empire, if that is what you wish.”

“It is. But don’t you worry. I’ll still show up on the day of the battle and heal you all when you throw yourselves headlong into danger as usual.” Linhardt yawns. “I think that’s enough for one day. I’ll be taking a nap now.”

With that, he walks off, leaving Hubert alone to turn the idea over in his head in more detail. For all his dismissiveness towards Linhardt’s usual pursuits, Hubert will be lying if he says the tactical suggestion isn’t a valuable one. If they continue to pop up, just as promising as this one, he may have to turn more of a blind eye to his disapproval.

* * *

The morning before a battle flows the same each time. Hubert rises early for his coffee and makes a final scan of the plans. He’s not the only one awake before the sun, though he can’t say if the others are only up due to nerves, as many of them are still not used to war. On the whole, most of Garreg Mach still rests as he strides through its halls.

He turns a corner to continue on his way to the supply room, then stops. Someone is shouting. Not any specific words, but the noises people make when training intensively. It’s not uncommon for a soldier to try and work out some of their nervous energy. One of the more popular training rooms is on his route, and it sounds as if it’s the one in use. He’ll be able to see the culprit as he passes by.

Hubert doesn’t intend to stop and stare, as what does it matter to him if someone wants to ensure they’re ready? He respects the initiative. But when he spots a familiar blue head of hair inside the room, he pauses. As loud as Caspar is, it’s a miracle he hasn’t awakened the entire castle. He’s not alone either. A couple of Empire soldiers give their lance and sword experimental swings. It looks as if they’re preparing to spar with Caspar -- who throws punches at an invisible enemy -- when one catches sight of Hubert and straightens up.

“You ready to go now?” Caspar says. “I like the confidence!”

“I believe I have interrupted,” Hubert clarifies.

Caspar turns. His eyes are bright with a near-manic energy, as if he too has been drinking coffee. “Oh, hey Hubert. What brings you here?” He makes a fist. “Want to practice some of your magic? Or try to dodge my hits?”

“No. I was simply passing by.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me!”

Hubert doesn’t anticipate changing his mind. Spending an extended period of time in Caspar’s presence has a tendency to wear on him. He’s about to take his leave when footsteps stop behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees another soldier. She gives him a respectful nod before moving past him into the room.

“Welcome.” Caspar grins. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“I didn’t know that I was going to until I woke up,” she admits.

“Better late than never, right?”

The soldier makes a sound of agreement and joins her companions. Hubert stares at them.

“What exactly is going on here, Caspar?”

“Just my way of helping out, I guess,” Caspar says. “I always like to get the blood pumping before a battle, but I thought I’d invite anyone to train with me if they wanted.”

“Do people usually take you up on that offer?”

Caspar nods. “Sometimes it’s just one two two people, but before big battles, there are more.”

Looking at the soldiers again, Hubert wonders how much of a difference Caspar’s training has made in the previous engagements. It’s impossible to know. Yet he can’t deny the determination on their faces. Whether they have arrived because of anxiety or a simple desire of putting in a few more minutes of effort doesn’t matter as much as the fact that they showed up at all. Everyone may have their own way of preparation, but all are linked by the same ambition.

The routines are all about ensuring readiness for the upcoming battle. To what end? Victory, of course. Edelgard’s victory, the Empire’s victory,  _ humanity’s _ victory. No one wants to do anything less than what’s asked of them, and so many more -- like the four Hubert has in view -- surpass those expectations for their betterment, and the cause’s by extension.

“If your noise is anything to go by, your work is successful,” Hubert says dryly.

Caspar laughs. “Thanks, Hubert. I think. I’ll be going back to shouting now -- there’s not much time before all of the meetings.”

And sure enough, as Hubert steps out of the room to resume his routine, Caspar’s voice follows.

* * *

Making a new camp always requires an adjustment period. The Black Eagle Strike Force is too used to Garreg Mach for it to be a simple switch. The farther they press from the building, the more frequently they’ll need to set up a camp, rather than being able to spare the time to come and go from the monastery. 

“We need to explore the surroundings,” Hubert says, always the first to start them on their way to trusting the new area. Even with it not being entirely foreign to them, the land may have changed since any of their paths last carried them over it. “Perhaps find some food as well, in case our rations begin to dwindle.”

“I can be accompanying you,” Petra offers. “It has been some time since I have done hunting.”

As she is the best hunter in their team, Hubert has no argument. It’s also an opportunity to be with her individually and see if she reveals anything. When Edelgard gives them the go-ahead, they set off. It’s obvious from the start that Petra is more built for this than Hubert. While he’s used to inspecting new areas, it’s usually indoors, and often in the shadows at that. Petra seems right in her element, walking around the grassy area as the sun beats down on them.

“You are looking quite comfortable on Fódlan land these days,” he comments.

“It is easy when we are outside,” Petra says. “Animals may be different, but land is land.”

And the land doesn’t speak to her either. Her grasp of the language has come far from their first meeting, but he’s sure she’ll never love it like she surely loves Brigid’s words. Her situation is different from their other classmates’. While they can defect from Edelgard, they have a home to return to in the Empire -- though admittedly any house within the Empire that stands against Edelgard won’t be allowed to stand. If it occurs to Petra she no longer wishes to fight this war in a country other than her own, she can  _ leave _ .

“That’s true,” he agrees, “but I still wonder why you’re willing to bleed for this land that isn’t yours.”

He’s being less subtle with her than he has with the others. In part, it’s because he hasn’t stumbled upon an opportunity to view her loyalty from a distance. Yes, he’s seen her fight as fiercely as anyone, but anyone can fight until something changes their mind. Those moments are less likely to come in battle than they are in the sections of peace in between. Like the minutes spent exploring a new area.

“It is not the land I am bleeding for, Hubert,” she corrects. “It is the people and the future. Not just the future of Fódlan, but of Brigid too.” She stops walking at the edge of some taller grasses. “If we win the war, the Empire and Brigid will be friends. We are having strength together.”

Hubert nods. It’s true that by remaining with the Empire, Petra is ensuring the countries will have a good relationship, providing they win and make it out alive. As far as motivations go, he can find no fault in a strategic one. He doesn’t care if those in the army are dedicated to Edelgard herself, her cause, or their homeland, as long as they don’t stray. 

“It is more than the countries also,” Petra adds. “I have learned much as a student here, and I am thinking of you all as my friends. Friends are fighting together.”

Her face shows only honesty, but Hubert can hear the truth in her words on their own. It’s a mix of loyalty to her home country and the one that’s been her home as of late, of the bonds she’s gained with her classmates. That combination makes far more sense than her being willing to make sacrifices for a country that had essentially held her hostage. More than that, they are reasons that are not easily broken. Not by their professor vanishing, and not by whatever else awaits them.

“You are correct,” he says. “An army will only be so successful if there’s nothing more linking them together than a common birthplace.”

“Yes. You are needing beliefs and shared feelings.”

A rustling in the grass interrupts any reply Hubert may have had. Petra’s head snaps around quickly, tracking the movement. She walks lightly after it. He remains where he is. When the grasses go still, so does she, apart from leaning forward to see whatever is serving as their company. Once she spots it, she returns to his side.

“It is a rabbit,” she says. “I am thinking there is good prey here, if we are ever needing food.”

“If there are rabbits, I don’t expect we’ll be finding any true dangers to us.”

“I am agreeing, but it is still important for us to be searching.”

With a slight smile on his face, Hubert gestures forward. “After you.”

* * *

Hubert rarely has difficulty locating Edelgard. Today is no different. She stands in her room, as if they are still students. He’s not sure how long she’s been there, whether she’s taking a moment to herself, or if it’s a longer break. Ordinarily he would nudge her to return to what needs to be done. As he’s here to tell her what he’s found, though, it’s not necessary to force her out.

“Lady Edelgard,” he greets, bowing.

“Hubert,” she says. “Has something come up?”

“I have no doubt it will, but it is not why I’m here.”

“What is it, then?”

He surveys her expression. When their professor fell, had she worried about the fate of their specialized team? Perhaps later, when they had moments of quiet. But in those initial seconds, her heart would have been twisted in concern and grief for the professor she had trusted against Hubert’s initial advice. 

“I believe you are aware that I’ve been watching the rest of our force?”

Edelgard nods. “I have noticed you spending much of your time with them. Don’t tell me you’ve finally opened that heart of yours,” she adds, with a hint of teasing in her voice.

Despite himself, he laughs. “Perhaps,” he admits. “That isn’t far from what I’ve come to tell you.”

Her lavender eyes light with interest, rather than battle as they have been as of late. These days he hasn’t had the occasion to give good news outside of tactical-based reports. This is strategic in some ways, but not quite the same. It’s a pleasant change.

“After the professor vanished, I expected some of our force to leave. They appeared to be more dedicated to them than to you. I’ve been watching for any sign that they would become a liability.”

“And?” Edelgard prompts. “What did you find?”

The result of his findings are obvious. The Black Eagle Strike Force is as intact as it had been on that first night. It doesn’t tell the whole story. That is his role.

“I’ve found that they are devoted to your cause, Your Majesty. There is no denying that they have varied talents, but they are all offered willingly to you.”

“I’m glad to hear it. To lose even one of them would be a great loss, after all we’ve been through, and all that awaits us on this long road ahead. It’s good to know the army isn’t just made up of those obligated to serve.”

Hubert dips his head. “Though the professor’s absence is a power we can’t replace, I am pleased it isn’t having the ripple effect I feared.”

“Indeed.”

There’s a pause. He can’t help but wonder what opportunities they missed out on by not revealing the truth to their professor sooner. Waiting had been the safest choice, the right choice, but all the same.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Edelgard says eventually.

“Of course.” He bows again. “Now that I no longer have that concern, I will turn my full attention to helping you win this war.”

“I’ve never doubted your devotion, my friend.”


End file.
